


OC Drabbles

by eoghainy



Category: Doctor Who, Original characters - Fandom, Tokyo Ghoul, Vocaloid, Warriors - Erin Hunter
Genre: Drabble dump tbh, F/M, Gotta get rid of them, So many OC works, Some smut is involved
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2015-08-28
Updated: 2016-10-14
Packaged: 2018-04-17 15:34:37
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 19
Words: 21,164
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4671950
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/eoghainy/pseuds/eoghainy
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Just as the title suggests~</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Leo's Death

**Author's Note:**

> So, since I can't keep making new threads for drabbles, why not create a drabble dump! This one is mainly for Rummer and Shaden—but there will occasionally be something else inside.

Over and over again, the idea of her sons death replayed inside of her mind.

Summer Mone could imagine herself as she was—many many months ago—pressed against a wall on the other side, covered in her sons blood and watching as her toddler tripped and cracked his head open  _every single time_. Then, not ten minutes later, he would come through the nursery door, excitedly crying out "mama!", attempting to get his mother to follow him into the door.

What lay beyond that door, Summer would never know. All she knew was that if you went behind that door.. your spirit faded forever, and you weren't allowed to return to the real world to be apart of it again. Those who lasted, those who held onto their sanity and ignored the temptation to leave the hell were returned—happily able to spend the rest of their days in the real world rather than trapped, reliving their best memories..

which quickly turned into their  _worst._

Whilst nursing a cup of tea, the female reflected on the horror that she had lived through. It was hard watching your first-born crack their head open over and over and over again, and continuously be holding their dying form and coating yourself in their blood. She had no  _idea_ how she had managed to make it through  _that;_ there was no way she could make it through again with her sanity.

"Mom," Leo's husky voice broke through her thoughts, causing her sapphire irises to meet with his scarlet ones. The young adults silvery strands were scattered across his forehead messily—as if he hadn't bothered to brush it—making the scarlet color of his irises pop. His ivory skin tone was lightly sun-kissed from all the time he had been spending outside with his younger siblings. "I'm going to go meet Cosette." 

Of course, Summer didn't approve of the relationship for obvious reasons. Incest  _did_ run through the Mone family, seeing as how most demons were infertile and mated with their siblings to create more demons. Leo was in a relationship with his great aunt—whom had been apart of the original Mone family before the Hattori's got mixed into it, so she was extremely old— _and_ off her rocker. The blonde knew that the two had formed an attachment to each other, and if anything were to happen to one another.. they would go insane.

Did she forget to mention that an insane gene ran through this family too? .. She was really caught up in a mess of a family.

"Sweetie, brush your hair first," she chided, reaching her hand across the table to run through his strands, gently easing the knots out. "You look like you just rolled out of bed. And put on a pair of pants! It's November; you'll freeze in those shorts." Her tone was gently reprimanding as she stood up, fondly gazing down at Leo.

Leo, unlike his siblings, was  _not_ Ryou's son. Instead, he was a product of rape. His father was Ryou's grandfather—again, long story short, crazy Clyde had raped Summer to ruin her and Ryou's happiness(and because she resembled his deceased wife), caused her to give birth to a still-born son, and then got her pregnant with Leo. Soon after that, Ryou had lost his temper and  _snapped,_ resulting in Clyde's death. Leo had never known about his twin(who had been a still-born as well), nor about his  _true_ father until the day that Summer accidentally called him 'Clyde' instead of Leo. He had put two and two together, and was absolutely horrified to learn of that information.

Rolling his eyes, he simply shrugged his shoulders, turning back towards the stairs. "Fine, fine. I'll do so."

"Be careful of waking up Theo whilst you're up there." She called as he began walking, not wanting him to wake up the napping toddler.

The young adult waved his hand in acknowledgement, becoming distracted. Everything seemed to slow down suddenly.

Leo's foot caught on a stray item on the ground, sending him crashing to the floor. A loud _THWACK_ caused Summer's mug of tea to slip from her grasp, shattering against the floor. Cautiously, she stood up, sapphire irises becoming wide at the sight before her.

Her baby boy was lying on the ground, limbs splayed out at awkward angles. His head was pressed against the floor, crimson liquid leaking out from his forehead. Cautiously, Summer began to approach her son, lightly shaking his shoulder. "Leo," she breathed, crouching down beside him, "get up off of the floor." Salty liquid was spilling out from over her waterlines, streaking down her cheeks. As quietly as she could, she clambered down onto the floor, pulling his lanky form into her lap. Confusion was evident in her gaze, but that didn't stop her from pressing a tender kiss to his temple. "What're you doing, Leo? Why so still?"

Scarlet irises were open and blank, features forever frozen in an expression of shock. It was exactly like what happened in that horrible place—so didn't that mean he would be walking through the door again? 

Expectantly, through her tears, she looked up towards the door, waiting for his body to evaporate in her grasp. "C'mon, Leo," her voice cracked and broke, "why haven't you come through the door yet..? You've never been late before—why late now?" It wasn't registering inside of her that this was _real._ That her worst fear had come  _true_ and there was no way that she could reverse time to change it.

Clutching his body closer to her chest, she pressed another—this time desperate—kiss to his temple, her own body trembling with grief. "Why won't you come back to me? Leo, please, come back to me.."

His blank, unresponsive features was the only answer she needed.


	2. Her Love

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter CAN be triggering, so I'm putting warnings now; abuse. Lots of abuse. Emotional, physical, and mental. All of it. 
> 
> So  
> Skip this chapter  
> If its triggering,  
> p l e a s e.

The shadow standing before her sent chills up the girls spine. Cautiously, she raised sapphire irises up from her current action to meet _his_ gaze. His ruby irises were scanning over her frame, lingering on the places where her bones protruded from her skin awkwardly. One silvery eyebrow raised, clearly surprised by this.

"You've missed me." Those were the only words that rolled off of his tongue, and the blonde was shocked for a moment. She didn't expect _those_ to be the first words that he said to her.

 _You can do this,_ the thought passed through her head as she straightened up, squaring her shoulders and clearing her throat. _All you have to tell him is that he needs to go away, you can do this. You CAN do this._

Those words died upon her tongue as his warm hand moved to cup her jaw, sending a lightning bolt of warmth through her body. Her proud stance faltered as her knees became shaky, body drawing in a deep breath and inhaling the familiar vanilla scent. It had been weeks since she had last seen his face, and smelled that _heavenly_ scent, and for once, she had been doing well.

But he was back.  
He was here again.  
He _always_ came back when she was beginning to heal.

"Oh, sweetheart," his silky voice was a purr, "you haven't been managing well without me. But—I must give you credit, coming to work must have taken a lot of strength out of you. Strength that you _don't_ have."

"I've managed without you before," she replied a little too sharply, "I can do it again."

Without any hesitation, his grip tightened on her jaw. "Watch. Your. Tongue." Annoyance began to burn in their ruby depths. "I don't appreciate when you talk back to me in that tone."

For a brief moment, he left her stunned again. She was _hardly_ speaking and he was already upset! Her gaze flicked down to the counter before returning to his features. Summer's heart sank as she realized just _how_ much she missed him.

Leaning up on the tips of her toes, she aimed to connect their lips in a kiss, eyes opening once his pointer finger pressed against her lips. "Now, you didn't earn a kiss yet, did you? I will let you know when you have earned it. So far, you've been very rude."

He was right. She had been rude! She hadn't offered him a drink, or food, or _anything_.  
Why was he always right?

"You're right," she confessed, leaning back so that her feet were flat on the floor again. "You're always right."

"I'm surprised that you haven't learned this by now. After all we've been through together, how have you _not_? Sometimes I wonder if any of my words get through that thick skull of yours." As he spoke, his expression fell flat. "You never listen to me—and you always go and do your own thing."

Resisting the urge to flinch, she nodded glumly. "I'm sorry."

"'Sorry' doesn't make up for some of the things you've said and done." His voice had a sharp edge to it. "I was worried about you when you walked out; I was worried that you would get hurt. When you get angry, you become so blind.." Ryou's voice trailed off, features glimmering with mock-concern. "What if you had gotten hit by a car? What would you do if I hadn't been there to keep you from walking right into the road? No, Summer, before you protest, just know that you would be lost without me."

Summer hung her head. "I would be lost without you," she admitted, "I have realized this. I—I.. I need you in my life. I don't know where I would be if you didn't exist."

Ryou's lips curled up into a cold smile. "That's what I like to hear." Lowering the tone of his voice to a soft murmur, he beckoned for her to come closer to him. "You've earned that kiss now."

Exiting her spot from behind the bar, she moved towards him so that she was standing in front of him, feeling his hands slip onto their usual spots. One cradled the back of her head whilst the other slipped around her waist, pulling her body flush against his. His lips just lightly brushed against hers before he was pulling away, keeping her at a distance.

The girl tensed.  
Normally, when he held her like this, he would begin insulting her.  
Or he'd hit.  
There was no in between.

So when his hand removed itself from her waist and raised, she flinched, noticing the satisfaction that glimmered in his irises ruby depths. But instead of hitting her, he cupped her cheek again, keeping his touches light.

"There is no way you could live without me," he whispered as he lowered his head to the point of where his lips were nearly touching her ear, "I'm all that you have."

Yet again, he was right. He was always right. "I love you," the words were whimpered out, making her sound pathetic. Already salty tears were pushing at her waterlines as she realized it was _true_.

He was all she had.  
He was all she would ever have.  
He was her world.  
Yet she had a feeling that he couldn't say the same.

No response came from Ryou; none was needed. His silence said it all.


	3. Drunk Dancing

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Prompt ; your OTP dancing drunk.

Tipping back the rest of the liquor in her glass, the young adult grinned—which was a little lopsided due to the alcohol coursing through her—brushing blonde strands out of her line of sight. "Dance with me." That was more of a demand than a question, but it was apparent she didn't care.

Aoi choked on his own drink, swallowing roughly around the lump in his throat. He took a moment to get ahold of himself before speaking. " _What_?"

"I said, 'dance with me'." Fay tossed her glass down upon the table, extending her hand towards him. "I'm not asking—so, get off your ass, turn on some music, and dance with me."

Ebony irises flickered from her extended hand to her face, looking cautious. All humor and seduction that had previously lined his striking features had disappeared completely. ".. You want to dance.. With _me_?"

Pearly whites sank into her bottom lip with excitement. "Yes. I want you to dance with me. Show me a good time; liven up my night a bit. Don't get me wrong, I like drinking with and old man like you, but we always have sex sooner or later and ugh, 's getting a bit boring."

"Did you just call me an 'old man'?" Aoi gaped in mock surprise, gently batting her hand away. He pulled himself to his feet, lacing his fingers with her and pulling her smaller body against his chest. Her skin was soft and smooth; flushed, even, underneath his touch.

"Maybe I did," she began, her pearly whites touching her tongue, "maybe I didn't. What'cha gonna do 'bout it, 'old man'?"

Growling, Aoi stole a quick kiss before removing his hand from hers. "If you want a dance, then I'll give you your stupid dance." He muttered, fumbling momentarily with a radio before classical music began blaring through the speakers. Turning it down, he looked back at her, a sly grin crossing his features.

Arching both eyebrows, Fay twined their fingers together again, shivering when his hand settled itself upon her waist. She was expecting for it to be dirty; desperately grinding against each other that would end in meaningless sex. After all, Fay was a toy to him, correct? She didn't mean much to him, or so she assumed.

His taller body was utterly wrapped around hers as they swayed back and forth, her cheek resting in his breastbone, able to hear the gentle beating of his heart. When she snuck a peak up at him from underneath her eyelashes, she was surprised to see that his own eyes were shut, and expression peaceful.

_'Is he thinking of Leah?'_

The thought of his deceased love crossed her mind, and she couldn't help but shake her head. That seemed to pull him from his peaceful thoughts, tuning back in just long enough to gently spin her.

"This is,, nice," she commented, though a frown pulled down her lips.

"Oh?"

"It's not what I was expecting you. I thought we'd be in bed by now," Fay confessed, feeling more sober than she did earlier.

Gentle fingers tucked a strand of her hair behind her ear. His thumb lingered on her jaw for a brief moment, before sliding off. "I'm not all about sex, y'know. I do have moments in which I can be kind."

"Is this one of those moments?"

"Of course."

Her charcoal optics picked up upon the flushing of his face, and she decided that he was still drunk. This was all merely caused by the alcohol; it had to be. He wouldn't remember this, come morning, she was sure.

Or, maybe she just couldn't accept that she might just be in love with him, and he with her.


	4. Seth's Loss

Julia and Christopher were at each others throats.

The golden wolf, who was on Christopher's side, had parted her maw for the one who she seemed to despise most. Her jaws were clamped around the alpha males throat, teeth digging deeper and deeper into his flesh. Ruby liquid ran down his silver fur, staining it in several patches. It was odd to see someone like Julia fighting back; she was always so submissive to Christopher—she never snarled at him, or tried to harm him in the slightest. But now, this previously submissive wolf, was fighting back.

The tides quickly changed.

Christopher used his larger size to twist in Julia's grasp, breaking his neck free of her powerful bite. Within a few seconds, he used his large back paws against her. They met with her stomach, sending the female reeling backwards. Julia's slimmer body was unable to regain its balance in the air; she was twisting over and over again until gravity took over and brought her body down roughly to the ground—causing her to begin skidding across the slick Earth.

A whimper escaped her maw as she came to a complete stop, chest rising and falling rapidly.

The silver alpha wasted no time, and lunged. Julia's throat and belly were exposed; the kill would be easy. His long claws tore at her soft belly, and his sharp incisors dug deeply into her artery. With a simple jerk of his head, he _tore_  the females throat open, a terrible snarl leaving his lips as the female wolf underneath him let out a strangled howl of agony.

 

* * *

 

From his position on the rock he was standing on, Seth heard Julia's cry. Even though they were no longer connected telepathically, he could still recognize her howl anywhere.

What was..?

Without even hesitating, the male took off, catching Julia's sharp fear-scent in the air. With his lips curled over his sharpened teeth, Seth exhaled sharply as he attempted to gain control over his temper. He couldn't hear anything; not Julia, and not her brother. He would have to rely on his tracking skills to be able to find her.

Was that—-  
Was that Christopher's scent?

A growl of frustration left Seth as he grew more panicked, his blood running cold as the scent of copper filled his nostrils. The russet-furred wolf was running as fast as he could; his paws were drumming upon the Earth, making it vibrate with each step that he took. Each breath was becoming clouded due to the cold air, although he couldn't stop to think of the upcoming winter.

Not with Julia in trouble.

Skidding to a complete stop, the hackles on the base of Seth's neck rose in absolute horror. The young alpha was staring at the silver-furred wolf in horror; he was standing above Julia's limp body, casually licking the ruby liquid off of his fur. His wounds had already stopped bleeding; he didn't have to worry about much—-...

 _yet_.

A howl of grief rose in Seth's throat as he dashed down the rest of the slope, his vision quickly turning red. His only goal was Christopher. Christopher. Christopher.

 _Christopher_.

With his jaw parted and saliva dripping from his maw in massive globs, the russet-furred wolf lunged. The unsuspecting Christopher quickly gave out from underneath Seth's greater weight as he landed squarely on top of him, but was unable to stand up and shake Seth off.

Seth's teeth were lodged firmly in the silvers wolfs shoulder, digging down beneath the fur, flesh, and muscle. He could taste copper inside of his mouth and was finding it hard to draw in a breath, but he couldn't bring himself to stop.

The wolf underneath him was shaking furiously now that he had had time to recover. He was trying his hardest to unbalance Seth, but, none of it was working.

That is, until, he dropped completely to the forest floor. With ease, he rolled over onto his back, squishing Seth underneath his spine. A pained yelp left the russet-furred wolf, yet he was very quick to react to the sudden change.

The angered wolf had lodged his claws into Christopher's thick fur, and was digging his claws deeper and deeper into his opponents silky pelt so that he could finally reach his goal; flesh. An angered howl signaled that Seth had successfully ripped open Christopher's flesh. With how closely the two wolves were pressed together, the russet-furred wolf could feel the silver-furred wolfs growl rumbling deeply inside of his chest.

When two pack leaders faced off against each other like this, things never ended well.

Christopher rose up on his hind paws, successfully shaking Seth off this time. The smaller wolf was thrown off, hitting the trunk of a nearby tree quite harshly. For a moment, Seth was stunned. The red began clearing from his vision—just as he saw Julia's still body again.

Letting out a howl of utter grief, Seth rose up on his hind paws, meeting Christopher in the air. The two wolves had each others jaws embedded in the others neck, tearing at the inches of fur and attempting to be the first to get down to the flesh.

Only one would be making it out of this battle alive, and Seth intended to be the one to survive.

The silver wolf let out what sounded like a screech as Seth's teeth hit home. His teeth jaggedly ran down the exposed flesh, digging at the muscles and the tendons underneath. Christopher was rendered shocked for a brief moment, before he let out a whimper. As scarlet liquid ran down the side of his neck—staining Seth's chest fur—his attempts to get Seth off grew feebler and feebler.

That is, until he grew still in the smaller wolfs grasp.

Releasing his grasp on Christopher, Seth let the older wolf fall back onto the Earth with disgust. Christopher's mocha irises were wide, chest rising and falling rapidly as he drew his last breaths. Scarlet liquid was rapidly pooling around his body, and flattening his silver fur to his skin. Within seconds, the leaders eyes grew blank and he drew one last shuddering breath, his chest and flanks quickly becoming still.

Seth, on the other hand, was not finished. The russet-furred wolf dragged his suddenly stone-heavy paws over to Julia's still body, lightly nosing her cold shoulder. The last thing he and his mate had done was argue; how could he had let this happen to her? How could he had let this happen to _Julia_? The only one who he truly cared for?

Nosing her shoulder again, Seth shut his eyes tightly. The werewolf plopped down onto the forest floor, tilting his head back to look at the sky. It was quickly growing dark; twilight just had to be approaching. It seemed fitting; he would mourn Julia all night, right up until dawn. Those who heard his song of sadness would gather around their fallen packmate and mourn her—just until Seth buried her at dawn.

Parting his maw, Seth let out the most heart-breaking sound. Howling his grief up to the rising moon, the werewolf stayed beside his deceased mate.

Julia's younger brother, Thomas, had heard Seth's mourning cry and came to the see if what his leader was saying was true. The other members of Seth's pack had come to join in as well; each tucking their paws underneath them, and watching as their grieving friend refused to budge from Julia's side. By the time dawn came, the injured leader was surrounded by his ragtag bunch of werewolves, and had the task of burying his only mate.

The one thing he never thought he'd have to do.


	5. Lack of Air

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> this was pulled out of my ass too ??

" _Keep what you love close,_ " the Whitmore Witch purred, " _for if you don't hold on, it'll fall through your grasp like sand._ "

Pausing, Seraphina felt horror creep into her bones. "What have you done?" She whispered, immediately thinking of Absalon, and then Rayna.

If Belle treasured Nora's happiness as much as Seraphina treasured Rayna's, then there was no need to hurt either girl! A bond that strong between two Witches from opposing families was unheard of, but it wasn't impossible. Rose treated Nora like her own daughter; seeing Rayna so happy was.. nice.

So she must not've toyed with her dear daughter, but her husband.

" _Return home._ " Belle drawled. " _You'll see what gift I left for you._ "

The phone fell from Seraphina's grasp, shattering against the concrete upon hitting it. Dashing back towards the Fell estate, where she was _sure_  she had left Absalon to his own devices for only a few hours, anxiety ripped through her.

Belle was vindictive and cruel; she had made it awfully clear that she didn't care for the Fell's in the slightest. She wanted the Stone's, and that was it. Though Seraphina had neglected to tell her that Nora and Rayna had found them, and were working on sealing the power in them permanently, she didn't doubt that Belle already knew. That _must_  be why she was acting this way; trying to get back at her for hiding information on the Stone's!

Forcing herself to calm down, Seraphina strode through the house, turquoise optics keenly flickering around. She was extending her sharp senses out, attempting to pinpoint where Absalon could possibly be. Despite her Clairvoyance usually being so reliable, she couldn't sense him—which worried her. Magic had to be hiding from her abilities, and it sparked frustration inside of her chest cavity. If she couldn't sense him, then that meant that Belle must have cloaked him from her abilities.

Shit.

Fabric swooshed behind her, and she paused, hardly daring to turn around. It was just them at home; Rayna must be out with Nora, and Emery had to be spending time with Ari. Last she had heard, they had been planning on adopting a Witch baby, taking the next step in their relationship. She was happy for them; they deserved a sweet, domestic life. 

"Thank Nui," Seraphina breathed as she turned around, relieved to see that Absalon was in one completely piece. She exhaled sharply, trying to control the shaking in her hands. "Belle was making threats again; she had me worried about your health."

The tip of one of his pointed ears twitched with brief annoyance. "She's always making threats, and she never follows through." His hands settled on her shoulders, pulling her closer to him. "I missed you." Her Elven Prince murmured, giving her a tender squeeze.

"I missed you, too." She pecked his lips, savoring his naturally sweet taste. "I know I promised a day in which we'd have the entire estate to ourselves, but it was just all so sudden.. I'm sorry I had to dash out like that. It won't happy again, I promise."

He didn't reply; his grip on her just got tighter.

"Absalon?"

His soft hands traveled up the column of her neck, sending a tremor through her body. They twined around her white blonde hair, roughly pulling her head back so that her neck was completely exposed. Albeit his rough treatment, she didn't quite mind; being a masochist had it's... perks.  A dark yet seductive look had appeared in his dark sapphire optics as they hungrily trailed over her bare skin, seeming to mentally tell her: " _you're mine; all mine; you belong to **me**_."

Her eyes slipped partially shut as his lips gently grazed against her throbbing pulse, teeth nipping her tender skin. How she'd love nothing more than to christen the addition right at that moment, but there were more pressing matters that kept her from succumbing to what he wanted. They still had to find a safe place for the Stone's; she had to figure out what to do with Rayna, and what to do with the spell Honora left her;  _and_ how to stop this new sickness from devouring their family whole. She had no time to spare, not even with him. 

"Absalon—-" She was cut off as she tried to protest, his hands curling around her throat, pressing down roughly against her windpipe.

Her turquoise optics snapped open fully, staring in horror at his sapphire ones. They had become dark; all trace of seduction and desire and gone. A nearly unrecognizable expression had locked itself upon his features, making him look unnatural and murderous. He was completely cold; she didn't recognize him. 

How had the tides changed so quickly?

Seraphina's hands clasped around his own, channeling her magic to her palms. Her skin was blissfully warm, but she knew that he would feel it in a different way. It was a simple spell, one that didn't require any form of vocal projection, one  _perfect_ for this situation.

The heat she was projecting was enough to give him a third degree burn; she could smell his burning flesh, yet it didn't seem to deter him from his deadly task. He didn't even seem to _notice_  that she was burning him; causing his flesh to bubble and sizzle. It was sickening, smelling his charred skin as she continued to harm him in a vain attempt to get him to release her. Instead of letting her go, he seemed to  _increase_ the pressure.

A wheezing noise ripped from her lips as he lifted her fragile body up, steadily holding the pressure on her bruised windpipe. Her feet weren't touching the ground any longer; she dangled helplessly in his grasp, unable to fight back. Black spots were decorating the corners of her vision, threatening to form and take her out completely.

Rather than burn out her magic, she smacked her hands as hard as she could against his arms, struggling desperately for a small breath of air. Her lungs were burning; aching as they screamed for oxygen. Her head throbbed as no more blood traveled to her brain. A broken sound that couldn't be considered a scream pulled from her lips, not even reaching the man that couldn't be her husband.

He couldn't be.  
This wasn't Absalon.  
It wasn't Absalon.  
This wasn't _Absalon_.

Tears pooled against her ducts, viciously digging her nails into his cheek. His skin was ice cold; a side effect from—-.. _magic_?

This must have been what Belle had tried to warn her about! That  _bitch!_

"Absalon," she gasped, her lower body beginning to thrash. Her legs were jerking wildly now, connecting with his shins and knees. She was losing control over everything; her tears were streaming down her cheeks, her jerking rapidly slowing to weak swaying as she struggled to breathe, or even break free. Her nails continued to sink deeply into his cheek, ripping skin and drawing blood.

" _I_ _MPERIUM_!" Emery's deep voice snarled as the darkness began to form completely. She hadn't even heard her brother approach; but he had come to save her!

Absalon's grasp on her throat loosened, enough to the point of where she crumpled upon the ground. Violent coughing and spluttering tore through her as she hunched, her hands wrapped around her neck, trembling as she struggled to get her breath back. The agony that seared through her crushed windpipe was enough to bring more tears to her eyes, spilling over her swollen water lines.

Beside her, Absalon's legs gave out. His eyes rolled back into his head, passing out as whatever spell he was under disappeared. He hit the floor with a muffled thump, features softening as the recovery process from the spell began.

Before Seraphina could speak, Emery spoke in a tight voice. "I blocked all magic in this room," he growled, stalking over to Absalon and hauling the larger male to his feet, glancing at him with disdain, "I could smell the reek of a Whitmore before I even got in here. He's under some sort of spell, what I did broke it." His voice was clipped. Emery's gaze flickered down to Absalon's burnt hand and his clawed cheek, a small smile creeping across his lips. "You didn't just sit there and take it, did you?"

Seraphina shook her head, rasping out a chuckle. How she could laugh about this so soon? She didn't know.

"Don't try to speak, he could have really damaged your windpipe." With disgust, he tossed Absalon's limp body on the couch, bending down beside his sister. Always, he would tend to her first. The twin bond they shared was stronger than all else; they knew that better than most.

"All magic'll be blocked for an hour or so; you'll just have to sit tight until then, and so will he. Then we'll get you both healed up; pretend this never happened." He continued, jaw clenching. She could sense that he was trying so hard not to freak out upon Absalon for laying his hands upon her.

Speaking of, Absalon began to stir. His expression was blank, and his hair unusually messy. He sat up, gaze locking up on Rose and Jasper's grim expressions. ",, What the hell happened?"

Neither decided to answer right away.

Growing impatient, Absalon spoke again. "Why the fuck is my hand burned? Why am I bleeding, and why did I black out?" Lurching forehead, he pressed a long finger to his temple. "Ugh, my head aches."

When no one continued to speak, he hissed in annoyance. Unsteadily getting to his feet, he allowed his gaze to linger on Emery, and then on his wife. As soon as his gaze fell upon Seraphina, he froze, lips parting in shock. "Did I,, do that?"

She meekly nodded, looking at the blood-stained thread-bare carpet.

Gasping, Absalon rushed towards her—nearly tripping over his own feet—, dark sapphire optics wild with panic. His horror only increased as she flinched away from his extended hand. Hesitating, he gently lifted her chin up, examining the hand-shaped bruises on her neck. "Please tell me I didn't do that willingly."

"No," Emery replied quickly, "you didn't. Belle put you under a spell; I don't know which, and I don't want to know, but you tried killing Seraphina."

Still looking horrified, Absalon pressed his forehead against Seraphina's after stealing a brief kiss, his hands kept far from her neck. "Do you blame me?"

"No!" She managed to get out, her voice cracked. "I love you."

He closed his eyes tightly, still looking quite sickened with himself. "I love you, too. I'm going to try my hardest to make this up to you; I have to. I _have_  to. I would _never_  do this to you."

The Fell Witch shook her head. It was a massive effort for her to be speaking, but she didn't seem to care. "This wasn't your fault." She stated firmly, her voice breaking. She was wheezing, still having trouble breathing. "I do not blame you."

"But, I blame myself." He murmured, cupping her cheek. "I should have been strong enough to resist; I shouldn't have put my hands on you, spell or no spell."

"Enough sap!" Emery snapped. "Belle obviously did this for the Stone's. It _is_  her magic in the Whitmore Stone; that's why only Nora is able to seal it. She must know what we have planned, this is the only explanation as to why she'd lash out in such a way. She might hurt Anri next, or Rayna, or Ari, or someone else close to us. It's time to end this—once and for all."


	6. Fighting Leads to Dying.

Sweetly, Fire pressed her muzzle against Slate's, a purr rumbling deep inside of her chest. "The fight will be over quickly," she promised, "we will all be okay. Trust in us." 

Despite how grotesquely skinny the Tribe of Wailing Cavern's cats were, they were in the mood for a good fight. The Cavern-Guard's were flexing their leg muscles, claws scoring against the stone ground underneath their paws. The only fit Prey-Hunter's were pacing back and forth, nervous to be participating in their first battle. 

Slate shifted his large paws, looking uneasy. "I do trust you all, there's no doubt in my mind that you wouldn't win this battle. I'm worried about _you_." The snow leopard pulled his body from his mates, hastily padding forward towards the opening in the cavern wall.

He turned towards the gathered cats then, bushy tail twitching. "I don't normally make speeches," he began, "but this is a battle we cannot afford to lose. The territory along the lake will continue to aid us in living; fish comes from the lakes depths and small prey gather to drink in the shallows. We will be able to recover more and get our strength back if we win." His broad head dipped. "I trust in your strength, and I pray that we all make it through this unscathed."

Fire padded up beside him, brushing her pelt against his. "We'll come back—all of us." She lifted her tail, signaling to all of the cats. "It's time," she mewed, "don't want to keep our enemies waiting." At the same time, she and Slate lifted their tails and gave the signal, the both of them turning and leaping out of the cavern. The she-cats ears pricked as she listened to the other cats following after them, confidence making her feel light. 

With the lack of prey, the Tribe of Wailing Cavern cats were quickly dying off. Starvation, sickness, and untreated injuries often were the causes of their deaths. With no Iceteller, things were spiraling out of control. Claws was nowhere _near_  ready to assume leadership, so all of the responsibility fell on Fire and Slate's shoulders. It would take at least another season for Claws to be mature enough and to have the correct knowledge to lead his Tribe. Even then, would he be able to lead them and give them reassurance? 

Together, the two cats leapt over a snow drift in sync, mocha and azure meeting. "I'm worried about the Prey-Hunter's," Fire confessed, "they're not fighters. I'm unsure if they're going to be able to defend themselves." Her gaze moved to lock upon her previous to-be, Frost. The white she-cat was running alongside of Sparrow, not speaking due to her nerves. "If they can't, then it'll just be the Cavern-Guard's and I against the other Tribe." 

Slate's whiskers twitched. "I know how you feel," he replied, "I'm worried about all of them. Hopefully, we can win this without any serious injuries." Without pausing in his movements, he whisked his tail across her flank. "Save your breath for the fight." 

With a snort of annoyance, Fire turned her attention back onto the territory stretching out before her. Slate always was dismissive like this; he thought he could make anything go away if he didn't pay enough attention to it. But this was something that wouldn't go away; he had to focus on what was in front of him. 

It didn't take long to reach the lake shore. Already, the Tribe of Falling Snow was waiting for them, instantly lowering into defensive positions and snarling. Their leader only raised his tail, signaling for silence. 

"This is your last chance," Slate snarled as the Tribe of Wailing Cavern cats fanned out behind him, "leave our territory or else you will regret ever placing a paw on our lands." His hackles began bristling, pelt fluffing out and appearing much larger than he actually was. 

The other Tribe's Iceteller bristled, looking bony beneath his thick pelt. "Never!" He spat. "We need this strip of territory too, and we'll fight for it."

Slate stiffened before dipping his head respectfully. "We cannot just hand over our territory. Since it has come down to a fight, just know that every injury and every death now rests on your shoulders." His tail raised, causing his cats to drop down onto the cold snow, growls ripping from their throats. 

Fire pressed her body down in a defensive crouch, upper lip curling up into the makings of a snarl. Her short fur was bristling, standing on end. She didn't want to fight, but how could she not?

This was _their_  territory. 

They were going to _f_ _ight_  for it.

And they would _win_. 

Slate yowled loudly—signaling his cats to move forward. 

Fire wasted no time. The nimble she-cat lunged forward, claws extended and ears flattened to her head. Her long claws caught in another cats pelt, causing her to stumble; unable to yank them out. Mocha irises widened upon her seeing the other cats face. 

Briefly, once before, Fire had met him at a meeting. Leaves was another Prey-Hunter. At the time, he had been a To-Be; small and frightened by the larger cats. But now, he was an adult with sharp teeth and claws and an instruction to kill. 

A second snarl tore from Fire's maw as she yanked her claws out of his thick fur, slashing her claws across his muzzle quickly. 

_'Be fast. Claw and bite before they can. Always make sure they don't pin you down.'_

Slate's instructions rang inside of her head as Leaves yelped, emerald irises burning as he reeled backwards. But his surprise didn't last long; as soon as Fire became more confident—rising up on her hind-paws and preparing to smash her forepaws into his spine—he lunged. 

The smaller toms teeth caught her in the thigh, tearing at her delicate flesh. With a screech of anger, the ginger female ripped her leg away, working her way backwards. Not hesitating, Fire lunged forward, tearing her claws across his tender muzzle and nose. Leaves made an angry noise, attempting to move out of her range, but it didn't work like he had planned. 

As she whirled around to connect her hind legs with his face, Leaves sank his teeth into her back paw, stopping Fire in her tracks. She howled in agony as his teeth dug down deep; scraping her tender bone. 

Ripping her foot out of his mouth, Fire retreated a few paces, realizing that her fighting style was messy; she made many mistakes and retreated often, how was she supposed to finish this before he did? 

Ignoring the throbbing in her paw, the she-cat flattened herself in the snow, muscles bunching as she prepared to lunge. She lunged at him, gaze locked at his paws, but landing on his shoulders.

Leaves dropped underneath her, but was too slow. Her claws were raking down his spine, causing him to screech. He was squirming underneath her, trying to break free from her grip, but was unable. 

"Run," Fire hissed in his ear, "go back to your own territory, fleabag!" Releasing him, she hopped down into the snow, watching with satisfaction as Leaves shot across the frozen lake.

"Fire!" A voice was wailing. "Fire, help me!" 

Whirling to locate the sound of the voice, Fire immediately bristled with shock. Frost was flattened in the snow, blood welling on her forehead and streaming into her eyes. A cat larger than she was sending blow after blow her way, not showing any sign of stopping. 

With an ear-splitting shriek, the she-cat threw herself at the tomcat, clumsily landing by his shoulder. Without pause, she raked her claws down his muzzle, sliding in beside Frost in order to target his face. 

Her presence seemed to encourage the young Prey-Hunter, seeing as how she rose shakily to her paws. She and Fire were in sync, landing blow after blow on the tom, watching as he spat and snarled with frustration. 

They were too quick for him; dodging out of the way when he threw a clumsy paw at them, or tried to split them up. Growing frustrated with them, he howled, fleeing after Leaves. 

"Are you alright?" Fire gasped at Frost, whom nodded, breathless. 

Diving though the chaos of the battle to find Slate, Fire spotted him near the lakes edge. He had the Iceteller pinned down in the snow, his claws sheathed. No matter how hard Iceteller thrashed, he couldn't overthrow Slate. 

As she grew closer to her mate, she could hear him speaking. "It's over. You put up a brilliant fight, but the territory remains ours." 

"Never!" Spat the Iceteller, but he knew he was defeated. By the way Slate had his paws positioned upon the Iceteller's throat and shoulder, he had the elder cat trapped. Even if he tried to writhe out from underneath Slate, it wouldn't have worked. Slate's greater weight kept him pressed against the cold snow. 

Stepping off of him, Slate bared his teeth. "Go now, before I change my mind and kill you after all!" 

Yowling the retreat signal, the Tribe of Wailing Snow cats fled; darting clumsily across the lake. Their paws thrummed upon the hard surface, echoing within the snowy clearing. 

"Prey-Hunter's!" Fire yowled, "after them! Make sure they're gone!" 

Slate's teeth gently enclosed around Fire's tail, pulling her back to him as she moved to run. "Is that a good idea?" He panted, worry obvious in his sharp gaze. 

Fire could tell that he was hurting; there was a long, nasty scratch running down his shoulder that still continued to bleed. One of his eyes was swollen shut; blood dripping into it from a wound right above. His flank and spine was missing some fur, yet he still stood tall. 

"I'll be fine," she promised, gently brushing her maw against his. "The ice is strong. It can hold our weight. Besides; it's not the Freed Water season yet. It will still hold us for a few more moons." For a brief moment, she twined their tails together and pressed against his side. But once the other Prey-Hunter's gathered amongst her, she licked Slate's ear, streaking off onto the lakes surface. 

At first, she slipped, unable to find her footing on the ice, but quickly recovered. With her belly low, brushing against the cold ice, and her pawsteps quick and soft, the small group dashed after their fleeing enemies. 

Strangely, a sense of joy rose within Fire; they had won! The territory was /theirs/. No one could ever take that away from them if they tried. Slate and the rest of the Tribe proved to be formidable fighters; if they were required to fight again, it would be an easy win. It also meant that there was more prey for them to hunt; maybe they would start getting used to having full bellies again! 

_**CRACK!** _

A sound that resembled thunder resounded, stilling Fire to her core. The ice was cracking! "Go back! Go back to shore!" She yowled, trying her best to keep calm. The Prey-Hunter's were panicking; scrambling and slipping as they bolted towards the nearest shore. The Cavern-Guard's were wailing; unwilling to go out to help if their greater weight would only make the situation worse. 

Spotting Frost nearby, frozen to the ice with shock, Fire lunged for her. Sinking her sharp teeth into Frost's scruff, she hauled the tiny cat towards the shore, unable to breathe around the mouthful of fur. 

Coming to her senses, Frost gasped loudly before fighting Fire; thrashing her lower body in order to get free. Having to drop her, Fire snarled with frustration as she shoved the flailing Frost forward, her own paws sliding on the ice as she fought to regain control. She could feel how thin the ice was here, but she was so close to shore! Fire had to chance it; use her full weight and run as fast as she could back to shore before the ice broke again!

Another ear splitting crack thundered around the clearing, and before Fire knew it, the ice underneath her paws gave way. Wailing with fear, she sank her curved claws into the ice, managing to cling to the cold substance momentarily. 

Her lower half was completely submerged into the dark water. The current pulled dangerously at her hind legs; threatening to pull her into the deadly depths. In moments, her fur was soaked. She couldn't feel her hind legs anymore; they were completely numb. 

Mocha irises swept around the clearing, seeing Shine in the same predicament. Slate's littermate pulled herself out of the water; streaking across the ice and to safety. Frost was safely huddled next to Sparrow, seemingly unharmed. 

Slate, on the shore, was caterwauling. He was running along the edge of the ice, looking desperate. Hawk, their kit, had his claws lodged in Slate's flank; trying his hardest to pull him back to where he would be safe. 

As she hung there, time seemed to slow. Her gaze met with Slate's; both seemed to be recalling the dream she had had only moons ago. 

_"Even the strongest fires can be quenched with water. Beware; you are not an eternal flame."_

The dream was what made Slate stop believing in the Tribe of Endless Hunting. Her mate simply brushed the dream off, telling Fire that it was a bad mouse that she had eaten. Yet, Fire had believed it; the way her mother had gazed upon her, voice thick with bone-deep sadness, Fire had _known_  that her words were nothing but the truth. 

Fire's claws began sliding on the ice. True fear kicked in; causing her attempts to become reckless. Her hind paws scrabbled at the already weak ice, trying to find a stable paw hold so she could pull herself out. Her teeth were chattering; limbs trembling as she—-

A shriek became cut off as the ice underneath Fire gave way again, submerging her into the darkness. She opened her maw to cry out, but water steamed into her mouth; rushing down her throat and into her lungs. The current was pulling at her fur; roughly dragging her farther and farther down. She tried kicking out; trying to swim; but her strength was fading. 

Water steadily streamed into her lungs. At first, it was agonizing. She had fought it; choking on her remaining air that became tinged with the cold water. A sense of peace settled over her; the darkness that yawned before her seemed comforting. Her struggles died out as her eyes shut, death leading her away. 

* * *

"Fire!" Slate howled, ignoring the claws that grasped at his flanks. "Fire, hang on! I'm coming!" 

"No!" Snow gasped, throwing herself onto her father. She and her littermate, Hawk, held Slate down. The bigger tom snarled and thrashed, before growing limp. His entire body was trembling; grieved moans kept leaving his maw, incoherent to the kits holding him down. 

"She's... Gone." Sparrow numbly sat down, staring blankly at the spot in the ice where Fire had disappeared. Dark water was swirling in the open channel, appearing to be malicious. The current was too strong to take on by yourself; Fire never had any chance of getting out alone. 

"May the Tribe of Endless Hunting take her peacefully." Snow whispered, huddling into her sibling for comfort. 

"No!" Slate snapped, throwing the kits off. His teeth were bared, momentarily crazed with grief. "They predicated this! They wanted this! I should have never let her go out on the ice. I should have known that they would take her from me today. I should have! I shan't look to the stars again for comfort; they've taken too much from me!"


	7. A Warning.

A strange, bone-chilling hissing noise came from Seraphina, freezing Emery to the spot. His gaze snapped back to her, heart thudding in his throat. 

Seraphina didn't look like Seraphina; her body was rigid, almost as if she were in some form of agony. Her eyes were rolled back into her head, lips parted and expression blank. When Emery touched her wrist, her skin was ice cold. He nearly recoiled, but forced himself to maintain a physical connection to his twin. She needed him, especially when her abilities chose to kick her where it hurts. Since the loss of her magic, it had all been so hard for her; before, she could repress her Clairvoyance and ignore it. Now? Emery had to help her when it got too much.

Because she had no magic of her own anymore to repress it, he would often snake his way into her head; his fingers pressed against her temples, and his magic washing away all of the dark deeds that her Clairvoyance had in mind for her. His little 'wash-out' was a temporary thing; it was a times like this in which he realized that he needed to do it again, and soon. She grew weaker and weaker without magic. 

As she had once said, asking a Witch to live without magic was like asking a man to live without his sight, after having it for his entire life. His poor sister, whom had suffered through the Second Witch Rebellion, and through imprisonment, now had to suffer even more. Every single day, he would look at her; knowing that she was nothing more than a shell of who she used to be. No fiery life sparked within the depths of those turquoise optics; no laughter pealed from her lips. She was ever silent; brooding;  _suffering_.

"She was not the one." A rough voice hissed, it's words alarmingly clear as it jerked Emery back to the situation at hand. 

"What?" Emery choked, instinctively pulling away from her. His breath was caught in his chest, constricting his lungs. This had to be something her Clairvoyance picked up; this _wasn't_  her, nor any of their family.

"Ida Bane was not the one." It replied, voice as rough as rocks as it spoke about his late spouse. "There will be another, as cruel and faithful as the sea. Hair as dark as night; voice as soft as silk. The greatest Fell shall fall at her feet, offering his heart without hesitation." 

It's gravely tone seemed to pierce Emery, instilling fear within his body. "What's that supposed to mean?" He demanded, his arrogance hiding his fear. Emery was sure that the air became sour with the bitter feeling, and was relieved that Witches couldn't sense emotions like animals. The voice cackled in response.

"She shall come," it replied simply. "Not as a threat to the future heir. He who bears his heart on his sleeve shall fall; for she has known his soul time and time again. His heart knows that the first was not the one; that it was an imposter!" With how fiercely it spoke, it was clearly taking a toll upon Seraphina. Her voice rasped within her throat; gaze now unfocused and blood seeping from her eyes, mouth and ears. 

Her chest heaved as she fought for breath; words broken as whatever was possessing her struggled to speak properly. Saliva began to bubbling at the corners of her lips, being mixed with the blood. Wildly, her eyes rolled around in her head; showing nothing but the whites. 

Emery briefly wondered if he should cut off her connection to whatever had decided to show up now, but dismissed the thought within seconds. His curiosity far outweighed his anxiety for his sisters health. He longed to save her from whatever chose to possess her body, yet horror dawned within him. He hated this; Emery just wanted this to  _end_. His hands shook at his sides.

"He shall fall to her," was the last thing it said before Seraphina's body crumpled. 

Lunging forward, Emery snagged his sister before she hit the ground. Her body was still cold in his arms, but soon warmed back to its original temperature from the contact. Tenderly, he took a cloth, wiping the blood and saliva off of her face and out of her hair. She was so beautiful; platinum blonde hair, turquoise optics, soft and kind features, full lips. So young, too; as a Witch, she had a lot of life yet to live. She had also endured so much pain,  _far_ too much pain. Both of their parents, their brother, her best friend, her husband, his wife and daughter, all being killed in the same battle.  _Right in front of her eyes_. After that came the ten year long imprisonment; the way that they dutifully drained her magic until it dwindled down to nothing, and the depression that he knew would take her life eventually. 

That wasn't the point, now. There was something more important to focus on, for himself and his future. What did that things ominous words mean? Who was this new,, supposed non-threat that would make a Fell bend to his knees? He knew he shouldn't be questioning it as if it weren't about him, but he couldn't believe it. 

Ida was all he had ever had; he'd never see her as some sort of imposter! As she had lain dying, he had sworn that his heart would always belong to her. A century of being married to the one that gave you everything you ever dreamed was something you couldn't just 'shake off'. 

As always, he supposed Seraphina would have no memory of what happened. It'd just be him alone with this knowledge, unable to unravel the riddle. A dark part of him wondered if the creature wanted it like that; for him to be left in the dark for as long as possible, until this woman arrived. 

Who could this 'she' possibly be?


	8. Breaking Up?

"I thought we agreed not to see each other?" Thin eyebrows arched, faux annoyance becoming clear in her features. "I mean, we did break-up, cancel the wedding, and I _did_  call you crazy." Plush lips pressed together, patiently awaiting the others answer. 

",,, I guess I don't care about that. Technically, we didn't break up—wait, yes we did; you took the ring off. Anyway, you walked out after calling me 'insane'." Crimson optics were hardened, although there was something glimmering amongst their crystalline depths. His upper body was leaning against the doorframe, arms folded across his chest. 

Sapphire optics began flickering across his features, attempting to figure out what he was thinking. "Did Yukia send you? He was always too invested in our relationship. Or did you come of your own accord?" 

"I came because I wanted to; because I—-" 

Slim hands raised, pearly whites clenching. "Don't—don't say that. If you say that, then it just hurts even more. I _want_  to try and believe you, that demons are real and that this 'Terrarum' area is real, but it sounds _absolutely insane_. I _can't_  believe you without doubting everything that I've ever known. Don't say that you miss me, that you love me; it just makes me want to believe you and to be with you again." Her voice cracked with pain.

His hands twitched at his sides, almost as if he wanted to reach out for her, almost as if he craved to run his fingers along her cheek and lightly cup her jaw. "It's true, I swear that it is. But I'm not pushing this on you. I really do—-" 

"I'm serious, Ryou. _Don't_." Her tone quickly became pleading. "I can't do this, not with you. I do love you, so terribly much, and it's beginning to hurt. I'm not going to explain to you again as to why I can't believe this, any of it." The female took a step back, careful to keep her distance. "You really shouldn't have come here." 

As she stepped back, he stepped forward, his fingers closing around her wrist. Summer couldn't deny the delighted shock that ran through her body once his skin was on top of hers once again. But she forced her expression to remain blank so that she wouldn't show what she was feeling. "Ryou, let go of me."

"Summer—-" 

" _Ryou_ ," Summer tilted her head back, chest constricting as she lamely attempted to pull her wrist away, "please, don't—-" 

The females words were cut off abruptly as Ryou's soft lips came down upon hers, effectively taking her breath away. It took her less than a millisecond to fiercely kiss him back, lips parting against his. His tongue was exploring the inside of her mouth, reaching every corner and sending shiver down her spine. Her wrist fell from his grasp, giving her the opportunity to twist her fingers into his silky hair. 

The sharp tang of liquor filled her senses as she yearned to be even closer to him. Sober, Ryou would have stayed away, no doubt about it. Drunk? He was desperate. In all honesty, he had to be hurting just as much as she was. She had seen his expression when she had walked out, carefully sliding the engagement ring onto his dresser, unable to deal with what he was trying to explain to her. Good god, she did love him; but trying to get her to believe that a whole other world and demons existed? That was pushing it. 

Pearly whites closed down gently around his bottom lip, using that as a way to get him to stop kissing her. Once he pulled back, she spoke in a shaky tone. "This is—damn it, it's wrong but—-" 

"I don't think either of us really cares," he murmured around her mouth, pearly whites grasping her bottom lip and pulling on it gently, just as she had done to him. A shaky noise left her lips, insides twisting with pleasure. 

"Whatever you do tonight, just please, don't stop kissing me; don't stop touching me, don't _leave me_." Summer groaned against him, quickly becoming desperate. It had been so long since he had held her like this, touched her like this, and even just been _around_  her. 

Summer could taste the exact liquor that he had been drinking upon his tongue. Captain Jack's Dark Rum; her favorite—-..

He had been drinking her liquor. 

Greedily running her tongue along his teeth, she inched closer to him, sliding her hands from his hair down to his cheeks, she forcibly pulled her lips away, catching his near inaudible groan. 

"I really can't do this," she shook her head, "not with you. Not right _now_. Not—not here." Running her thumb across his damp bottom lip, she closed her eyes tightly, moving to lean her forehead against his shoulder. "What are we going to do with each other? We—I— _fuck_ , we _broke up_ ," her tone rose to a pained whine, "I love you and I know this is going to hurt so much more when you leave." He didn't have to leave her; he  _shouldn't_ have to leave her. God, she wanted him to just stay in her bed with her until the end of all time. 

"I—-.." He broke off, quickly sobering up. "If you don't want me to, I don't have to go." Raising his hands from her hips, he settled one on her shoulder and the other on the nape of her neck. "We can spend the night together, no strings attached..?" That could never happen.

"No, if we do that, then I'm going to wake up tomorrow, look at you, and end up remembering that we're not together. I don't want to wake up to that; wake up to _you_  looking at me like I'm your world." Her voice was muffled due to her face still pressed against his clothed shoulder. His hands were then in her hair; stroking the long strands. 

There was a long moment of silence before he spoke again. "You _are_  my world." 

That—-  
That was odd.   
There was no familiar lilt to his vowels.  
His voice wasn't as smooth.   
He was more hesitant whilst speaking.   
It was—-  
Deeper; rougher than usual. 

Pulling her face away from him, she looked up at him with wide sapphire irises, lips parting. "English. That was English—you spoke _English_ ," feeling his hand slip onto her cheek, thumb running along the line of her cheekbone, "have you—-" she broke off, sinking her pearly whites into her bottom lip, realizing that she had slipped back into her native tongue as well. He didn't know English as well as she did; even if he did understand her, it would be hard for him to keep the conversation up long-term.

Crimson optics were more focused than they were before, eyebrows pulling together upon him attempting to continue speaking. "I have—-.. Been practicing to surprise you. I was hoping that," he hesitated for a moment, "that we would be together for when,, I said this—but,," forcing himself to relax, Ryou smiled, but his expression remained tense. "I love you." 

Standing up on the tips of her toes, Summer pressed her lips to his in a meaningful and tender kiss, heart pounding again to feel his lips pressed against hers again. Her body was tucked safely against his, his tongue brushing gently against hers—-

Absolute Heaven. The only thing she wanted right now was _him_ ; no matter what it took, no matter how much it hurt her the next day. 

"I love you, Ryou," Summer whispered against his lips, feeling his forehead press against hers, "I love you _so_  much." And back to French she went!

"Your French has gotten so much better," he murmured, "I guess we've both been practicing for each other." His thumb soothingly rubbed circles into her cheek. "No matter what, I love you. I will always love you."


	9. The Rescue.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Part one; to be continued!

"Where do ya' come from, girl?"

The question, albeit asked innocently, startles her. Though he had indeed saved her life from the manic Pack, and kept her from being ,,, turned into _whatever_  they were, she didn't fully trust him. 

For a moment, she debated on telling him that she was wife to the Erus Mone, but last time she had spoken those words to a stranger, she had ended up giving birth to two children whom weren't of Mone blood. Terrarum wasn't a safe place for someone whom had grown up on Earth; and yet? She still stayed. She still accepted this place as her home, because it _was_.

"I'm a servant girl in the Mone estate. I mostly serve their daughter, Nadia Mone. I must be getting back; they'll be wondering where I am." Her words were fluent, despite the breakage of her strained voice. 

His eyes narrowed at her as he took her in; gaze traveling from her torn dress; knotted, greasy hair; to the bites upon her wrist; and her face. "... No yer' not."

" _Excuse me?_ " 

"Ya' heard me. Yer' not a servant; yer' far from that. Yer' dress is too expensive. The way ya' speak is far too proper, but bold. Yer' attitude tells me that ya' have Raymond blood in ye'. A dangerous thing to have these days, little lady," he didn't look up from his book as he spoke. "But ya' also remind me of a certain Moki; so I'd say ya' share blood with one of 'em, too. There are only four of those of Moki-Raymond blood alive; and Summer Mone is one." 

Summer's heart sunk into her stomach. She couldn't survive another Hansuke; another Clyde. She would rather die than let another man touch her in the ways that they did! Her hands shook as they balled around the torn fabric of her dress, weighing her options carefully. 

She could run; take her chances with the rest of Terrarum. Or, she could stay; wait this man out, kill him, and get herself back to France on her own.

Deciding that she would rather take the risk of Terrarum, the half-starved woman awkwardly sprinted towards the woods; opposite of the way she had come. She barely got ten feet before his cold fingers wrapped around her wrist, jerking her back. 

"Let me go!" 

"Little lady, I'm yer' best chance at surviving out here." His gaze strayed to the bites on her wrist, satisfaction lingering in his expression. "Besides; ya' can't get too far with a wolf bite. Ya'd collapse of exhaustion, and come down with the Lupine sickness before ya' got too far. Face it. I need ya', and ya' need me." 

Summer knew exactly what the Lupine sickness would do to Daemon's. Those whom had been born of Terrarum descent could not live with it; the sickness would rack their bodies, thus killing them within hours of getting bitten. Humans, albeit, did not die. They would Turn by the next full moon; become a lower-ranked Werewolf. 

She was lucky. Her unique position as a Non-existent kept her from getting infected, in a sense. Upon first being bitten, she had collapsed; her body being torn in three different directions. 

The Daemon side of her began to convulse; triggering a seizure.   
The human side of her embraced the sickness; making her teeth begin to lengthen, and her bones begin to break.   
The Non-existent side of her washed away the sickness entirely; leaving her partially healthy. 

How this all started, you ask? Whilst on a trip to Terrarum, Summer had consented to Ryou going back home without her. She had stayed a few days longer than she originally intended, researching her bloodlines. She deserved to know where she came from; _who_  she came from! 

Whilst going to Benjamin's carriage, which was waiting to take her back to France, she had been grabbed. For weeks, she had been locked inside of small, disgusting cage; being fed just enough to survive. The water they gave her was dirty, but she had been in no place to complain. Water was water, when you were desperate. 

Every Werewolf she questioned about what would happen to her answered the same thing; " _Soon_." They would promise this to her; giving nothing away. So when the full moon finally came, Summer realized what they would be doing to her. 

They wanted to experiment upon her! Since she was the first pure blooded Non-existent, the very first of her kind, they wanted to see how their sickness would effect her. Would it wear her down? Would she die? Would she Turn? Would she reject their sickness entirely? 

So to continuously gauge her reactions, they bit her. Again. And again. And again. And again. 

Before long, her brain began to suffer due to lack of oxygen. Her seizures were coming too quickly; if they kept biting her, she would soon come to asphyxiate. And she was losing far too much blood; she'd bleed out if they bit her again! 

They had turned their backs on her for one second, and Summer had gathered the rest of her strength. She had ran; thus running into this stranger. She just wanted to go _home_. Ryou had to be frantic! 

"Why do you need me?" She whispered, her voice catching in her throat. 

"Yer' husband'll pay quite the handsome ransom for ya'. I'll take ya' to him, get my pay, and then set back off for Terrarum. Oh, relax; I'm not gonna rape ya'. Unlike most of these fucks, I don't believe in taking a woman against her will. I heard what Clyde did to ya' years ago; never got around to sendin' condolences." 

Summer fell silent. She had nothing to say about what had happened; that had been the worst period of her life. She had come inches to death; giving up upon all life itself because she hadn't been correctly programmed to deal with trauma such as that. Poor Ryou; she had really put him through the ringer then! 

Their relationship had never been the same, since then. He was afraid to touch her; every touch was chaste. Every look was fleeting. Every conversation was strained. She _wanted_ him to touch her; _wanted_ him to talk to her; _wanted_ him to feel comfortable around her! Yet, he was just afraid that him being around her would trigger her memories of Clyde. 

After all, Clyde and Ryou looked more alike than Ritcher and Ryou do. 

"That doesn't mean I can trust you." Summer snapped, having to fight back her own crushing fear. "Too many people have screwed me over; how can I trust when I ,,, barely even trust my own husband?" 

"Yer' smart not to trust anyone. We're all killers; rapists; or liars. Sometimes even all three! No one is who they say they are, little lady. Not even me." He released her wrist, laying back against a tree. "It's a few days ride from here to Morningstar City. There's a quick way to get to the Bridge from there, and then I'll take ya' directly to yer' husband. Once he pays me, I'll be glad to hand ya' over." 

Suspiciously, Summer sat beside him. If he had come from one of the politically powerful families, he wouldn't have to worry about money. But he obviously wasn't; he had to fight for everything he had, whilst it was all handed down to those with major last names. She could feel comfortable threatening him; no one would concerned with starting a war if he did end up dying!

"... If I have _one_  wound on me that came from you, I will have you _killed._ "

He was silent for a moment, then snorted. The still unnamed man turned onto his side; using his arm as a pillow. "Just go to sleep, little lady."


	10. The Reckoning.

"After him!" Benjamin commanded, watching with a twisted sense of joy as Nariko shot after the retreating Ilya. The blonde was obviously taking enjoyment from it, too; her dark eyes were alive with the chase, laughter peeling from her lips. "Belle, you too; kill him. He does not deserve to live."

A strangled gurgle caught his attention as the Witch beside him dematerialized. Confusion held him in place before it clicked. Camilla, whom had risen to her feet before Ilya had shot away, was losing her balance. The whore clung to the wall beside her, her nails curled into the bricks; blood tainting her lips.

"No, no, no," Benjamin whispered, his arms wrapping around her waist as she sagged. Her legs gave out from underneath her, his body being the only thing separating her from the hard ground. Warm liquid seeped through a hole in her back, dripping steadily onto his jacket. How had he gotten her like this? Did he shoot her, stab her? "Camilla, hey! Hey, open your eyes. It's not that bad; it's not that bad ..."

Her head lolled back on her shoulders, eyes tightly clamped shut.

Touching his hand to the wound, he drew his hand away, seeing how much blood had begun to coat his fingers already. Swallowing, he propped her head up with that same hand; his fingers gently wrapping around her skull and making it so that she was forced to maintain eye contact with him. Her blonde hair was dampened with a combination of sweat and blood.

"Hey, hey; you're going to be fine. Nariko is going to kill Ilya, and we're going to get you stitched up, okay?" He wasn't even sure she had heard him. Her eyes were transfixed on something past his head, blood continuously seeping onto his legs now, and out her lips. His free hand wiped the blood off of her chin, beginning to panic. The light was dying from her bright, malachite eyes; agony clear in her expression.

" _Belle_!" Benjamin shouted, his hand pressing against her back, attempting to staunch the wound. Blood oozed out from between his fingers. "BELLE! Get back here, now!" He didn't know if the Witch had heard him, or if she even cared, Belle did what was best for Belle; never what was best for other people.

"Protect ... them ..." Camilla rasped, the fire returning to her eyes. She met his gaze evenly, struggling to speak. "Protect my ... b-babies," her white teeth were red.

Benjamin's hand cupped her cheek, leaving bloodstains on her skin. "I will; I always have, I will make sure that they're well off." He promised, his voice sticking in his throat. Empty words for an empty promise. "But stay with me; stay alive for them,"

It was too late. Her body convulsed as her chest rose one last time, growing ominously still. Her malachite gaze were now glassy, staring blankly at his face.

His lack of power was the reason why she now lay here, _dead_. His lack of respect for her was the reason why he was now _covered_ in her blood. His lack of listening to her was the reason why Ilya had gotten away, _again_ , and she was _dead_.

Momentarily, he touched his forehead to hers; feeling the warmth begin to drain from her body. A chaste kissed is pressed to her bloody lips, a tear or two dripping on her cheeks, and then Benjamin rose to his feet.

It was time for a reckoning.


	11. Nothing.

"Don't touch me," he spat, ripping his wrist away from her.

Rose recoiled, shocked. Staring at him, her turquoise gaze so wide and filled with pain, soon hardened. "What the _hell_ is wrong with you?" She snapped, her heart pounding dully against her ribs. "What stick just got shoved up your ass?"

Tiir's gaze narrowed. "No stick got shoved up in my ass," his voice was as cold as ever. "I can't do this anymore, Rose. I can't live through your bullshit; your crises; everything that you go through one each and every life. You drain me of everything; of all my energy. I just can't do whatever this is anymore."

Horror swelled within her, fear gripping her heart in cold claws. Her bottom lip trembled, eyes filling with salty tears. "Are you ... dumping me?"

"What the fuck do you think?" Fear flashed behind his eyes. Rose wasn't sure she had seen it thanks to how quickly it disappeared, but it gave her hope. "I'm _done_. I'm done with us."

Brushing away her own tears, Rose shook her head. "No. No. No you're not; you love me, and I love you. We've been in love for ,,, how long now? Centuries? Millenia's? You can't just stop loving me at the drop of a dime." Her tone shook with anger, and she struggled to control herself; swallowing hard against the lump in her throat. "That's not possible."

Tiir's upper lip curled, and the next words that fell from his lips were enough to silence her. "I couldn't love you anymore. I stopped being able to love you a long time ago; I should have just cut the connection between us, but I felt pity for you. The poor little girl whom had fallen in love with me years ago; how could I lose the affection I thought I had for you? At this point, all I had wanted to keep you around for a nice fuck. A body to lay with at night. Someone to hold. But that did not mean I loved you; I _used_ you. You mean _nothing_ to me."

Trembling, Rose shook her head. She pressed the heels of her palms against her eyes, still shaking her head. "If you couldn't love me anymore, you wouldn't be crying," she accused. He was in just as much agony as she was; tears were pooling against his waterlines, and as he scrunched up his face to refrain from crying, she caught sight of the tears that dripped down his cheeks.

"I. Don't. Love. You." Each word was punctuated, tone harsh. But his voice broke after the last word; and his breathing had become ragged.

Oh, how she longed to go and throw her arms around his neck; ask him what's wrong and press kiss after kiss to his lips. God, all she wanted was to hold his fucking hand now, but she knew that she would be rejected. He'd spit at her; tell her that he never wanted to have her touch him again, nor touch her again.

"I think you're lying; I think you're scared that you're going to lose me again and you want to push me away before that can happen. I think you're being a damn coward." Her tears were falling freely now. "And I don't know why, after all this time, you're shutting me out now but I can't stop you." She inhaled, her entire body shuddering.

Tiir's gaze was icy, but tears still swam in his sapphire depths. "Lose my number; my address. Don't think of me again. Forget everything we've had together; forget our plans, our future, our past. It means nothing to me now." His hands were trembling as he shoved them down into his pockets. "Goodbye, Rosalie."

If she were in the same situation with any other man, she would have smacked him. She would have cracked her hand across his face and prayed to see blood drip from his nose. But, she didn't. Instead, she met his gaze evenly; retaining her composure a moment longer to say two simple words. "Fuck. You."

Whirling to face the other way, Rosalie stalked away from him, just barely catching his anguished, breathy cry. Her own head inclined, tears freely dripping down her cheeks now that she wasn't in sight of Tiir.

Sliding down the nearest wall that she could find, Rose collapsed; her head falling into her cold hands as she sobbed. All her poise, dignity and control was lost; the one person she had ever loved had lied, telling her she was nothing to him.

They would never be just _nothing_ to each other.


	12. Paternal Love.

"What did you tell him?" Kyoji demanded, gazing down at the boy behind him. Fear glinted in his emerald gaze, and Nariko's heart softened. He was just as afraid as she was; if all went well, Elliot would believe that Kyoji was his father; he would grow up with a good family, just as Nariko had once hoped.  
  
Striding up to him, Nariko draped her arms around Kyoji's neck, pressing a soft kiss to his lips to silence him. "I told him the truth," she whispered. "You're his father. No one else could ever replace you; you are the one he will look to when he needs guidance."   
  
Once upon a time, she had been that for him. Her son, only four years old, had once needed her like he would grow to need Kyoji. Her little boy was going to have a father; a man who adored every aspect of him regardless of the fact that it was not his son.  
  
"Elliot will _never_ remember the point in which you weren't in his life; he will _never_ remember it just being him and I. But he will remember _you_ ; he will choose _you_ as his father, because you are. It doesn't matter that you don't share blood with him; he won't ever judge you nor me for that."   
  
Kyoji leaned his forehead against hers, his curls brushing her temples. His exhale was shaky, hands trembling as they touched her hips. "Thank you ..." He whispered, swallowing hardly as he broke away from her, gaining his composure.  
  
Anxious, Nariko watched with her charcoal gaze wide as Kyoji knelt down in front of her son, gently placing his hands upon Elliot's shoulders. They both stared at each other for a moment; examining one another. Rather than flinch away from Kyoji, her boy simply gaze up at him, wonderment clear in his bright gaze.  
  
"Who are you?"  
  
From here, Nariko could see Kyoji's shoulders move as he laughed. "Well, Elliot; I'm your dad."


	13. Mine.

" _Mine_."  
  
The word is growled from kiss-swollen lips, gaze of dark sapphire meeting her lust-filled turquoise. One hand gripped her blonde hair; forcing her head to crane back so that their gaze could meet.  
  
A string of saliva connected their lips still, chests rising and falling in sync. Her hips were pressed completely against his; her back arching as his other hand gripped the small of her back.  
  
" _Mine_." He repeated, this time his tone harsher.   
  
"Mine," she gaped out, tilting her head back to thump against the wall as his lips attached to her throat.   
  
The vibrating feeling of his voice against her throat made her shudder with delight.  
  
" _Mine_."


	14. Goodnight, Sweet Lover.

"Rose, Rose, _Rose_ ," he moaned, his bloodied fingers gripping at her equally soaked jacket. As he struggled to pull her limp body into his arms, his feet slipped in the puddle that had seeped out from her wounds, crashing back down onto the bricks. Pain lashed through his tailbone, but it was nothing compared to the pain her death had caused.   
  
He moaned her name out like it was his singular source of air; he kissed her lips as if they were the very thing that could breathe life back into his dying body.   
  
"Why are you gone; why did you have to go so _soon_?" Tiir rasped, his shaking, sticky fingers combing the knots from her doll-like hair.   
  
A hand clamped down on Tiir's shoulder, and he winced; struggling to tear his tearful gaze from Rosalie's corpse. "Tiir, she's gone. Her body will begin to bloat and rot; it needs to be treated before then." Jasper whispered, his voice tight with agony.   
  
Meeting Jasper's gaze, and seeing Rosalie's twin; the identical turquoise optics, the identical blonde hair; identical facial structures and plump lips, Tiir's heart broke all over again. A wail rose in the back of his throat, fresh sobs ripping their way through him.   
  
He might have lost her, but he still had Jasper.


	15. Gone.

"What the hell is that box doing in my living room?" She had demanded, gesturing towards the admittedly giant box that had managed to destroy over half of her paintings, & crush her couch.   
  
Frowning, the Doctor placed his hands on his hips. "The Tardis," he snapped. "Oh! What'll I do now?"   
  
"Well," the girl answered, "the least you can do after destroying my living room and my art is to take me with you." 

* * *

"Doctor!" She cried, her tone sounding more than petrified. Aden never cried for him; not unless she could help it. 

  
"Hold on," he muttered, just barely loud enough for her to hear.   
  
Her eyes burning, and her body tensed with fear, Aden slowly backed up until she bumped against a wall. Cursing, she blinked; unable to stifle the shriek that ripped from her. The Angel had moved forward whilst she had blinked; standing right before her and ready to send her to be lost in time.   
  
" _Doctor_!" She cried again, this time a pleading edge lining her voice.   
  
"One moment!" His Sonic Screwdriver refused to work on the door, and he cursed; throwing his body weight against it. Once. Twice. Upon the third hit, he broke through; losing his balance as he stumbled into the room to rescue Aden.   
  
It was too late.   
  
With a flash of light, and a terrified scream, she  & the Angel were gone. His companion, his lover, the one whom appeared throughout his lifetime in different parts of time --- the one whom had made sense, whom he had allowed himself to fall for; the one who carried his child --- gone.   
  
She was gone, and he could never find her.


	16. Drowning.

Slate would always remember the day he nearly lost her.   
  
After a battle with their rivaling Tribe, Fire had padded into the cavern, clearly exhausted. She was a Prey-Hunter, not a Cavern-Guard; she didn't train to fight, she trained to hunt. And with the added starvation, her movements had been clumsier than usual.   
  
But she had seemed fine. Nothing was out of the ordinary, and she had ended up curling up in the corner for a quick nap.   
  
For a while, Slate had let her rest. She deserved it; she had fought hard! The fur had been rising along the back of his spine once he saw their kits frisking around their mother, and she didn't stir to groom their pelt, nor take any notice of them. It was then that he noticed the blood seeping out from under her fur, and the shallow rise and fall of her chest.   
  
"Claws!" He'd howled for the to-be, snapping at a kit mother to grab Hawk and Ice. "Fire's injured!"   
  
Those few days had been utter hell. Slate had not moved from Fire's side, willing her to come back to them. He'd prayed to their ancestors, whom had abandoned them after spitting out ominous words of how Fire would die; Slate had prayed that they would return Fire to him. He had not been ready to lose her.   
  
Fire did recover. She has roused once Shine brought her a stringy rabbit, and Claws had announced that she could go back to Prey-Hunter duties again --- as long as she was careful. She had slept away the worst of the injury & avoided infection; all she had to worry about was tearing it back open again.   
  
Moons passed, and Fire still remained. Ice and Hawk became Cavern-Guard to-bes, and then finally earned their permanent spot within the Tribe. Though they still suffered from the lack of prey, and the rivaling Tribe pushed at their borders, everything seemed to be going fine.   
  
Everything went south again once they engaged in the battle for the lake. Slate had lost sight of Fire's flame coat; his mate must have disappeared into the throng of shrieking cats. Only after they had managed to defeat the other Tribe did she reappear again, brushing her pelt against his.   
  
"I'm going after them," she announced; her mocha gaze lit with excitement. "We'll chase them over the lake."   
  
Slate shifted his paws with uncertainty. "Will the ice hold?"   
  
Fire narrowed her eyes as she thought. "It's not the freed water season yet," she murmured. "But we'll be careful." Touching her nose to his, she briefly purred. "I love you."   
  
"I love you, too," Slate barely had time to say before she was yowling for a few Prey-Hunter's to join her in the chase. The Cavern-Guard's were too heavy to go across the ice; if anything, they'd break it.   
  
Feeling more helpless than ever before, Slate sank his claws into the snow as he watched the cats scramble on the ice. It didn't take long before the clearing vibrated with a thunderous crack, & the ice gave way.   
  
Many fell in, half-submerged in the icy water. Yowling in fear, and ready to dash onto the ice, Slate was pinned down by Hawk and Ice. His kits were heavy; their claws sunken deep into his thick fur. Absolutely and utterly helpless to save his mate, Slate could only bear witness to the awful crime as Fire scrambled to get free from the churning, dark water.  
  
And as the ice underneath her upper-half cracked, Slate lost his mate to the depths of the lake forever.   


* * *

Weeks passed, and Fire's body didn't resurface. Slate was beginning to lose hope, until one day, Hawk spotted something by the lakeshore. A slender, red-furred body lay washed up on the sand; rain keeping its fur slick to its skin.   
  
Hawk, wailing like a lost kit, shoved himself underneath his mothers heavy paw; curling into her body. Slate could tell that his sons nose was buried in Fire's sodden fur, and his heart broke with fresh waves of grief.   
  
In the end, the Tribe of Endless Hunting had been right; they predicted this would happen, that Fire's life would be extinguished by water, and that starvation would drive the Tribe from their home.   
  
"We need to bury her," Slate rasped, his voice welling with more grief than ever. "She would want to be laid to rest by the mountains ..."


	17. I'm Coming.

"You've always been torn between your loyalty to ShadowClan and WindClan," Windflight spat. "You fell for Sootpelt! How could a _loyal_ WindClan cat do that?"   
  
Trapped underneath her deputy's paws, and feeling blood ooze from the wound in her neck, Brindlestar struggled to stay calm. "Sootpelt and I never intended to fall in love; I remained loyal to WindClan, didn't I? My kits are loyal warriors. I am a loyal leader. It is not your place to judge my faults; it is StarClan's."   
  
Windflight sneered at her. "Sootheart and Ashpelt are far from loyal," he snapped. "They frisk around like they own the camp just because their traitor mother is leader! If you ask me, they should have died like Marshkit and Frogkit."   
  
Brindlestar immediately stiffened. Marshkit and Frogkit were from her first litter; poor Frogkit had been unable to handle the lack of milk that she had, and died before his eyes had opened. Marshkit, on the other paw, lived until his life was cut bitterly short. Snowclaw, jealous over Brindlestar's secret relationship with Sootpelt, had killed Marshkit.   
  
In revenge, Brindlestar had killed her.   
  
"As I said, it is StarClan's place to judge me and my mistakes; not yours." She said calmly again, wincing once Windflight's claws dug deeper into her flesh.   
  
"Then they can judge you now," he answered, and agony ripped through her, from chest to tailtip.   
  
 _I'm coming, Sootpelt; I'm coming my sweet little darlings._ Was the last thing Brindlestar thought before her remaining lives melted away like snow. 


	18. Ghoulish.

You should never judge anyone by their appearance, not even the short twenty-two year old that lives on your street. Not the child that lives next door, or the old couple that lives above your apartment. Anyone of them could happen to be Ghoul's; _dangerous_ Ghoul's. Ghoul's like the infamous Bone Face, the SSS rated Ghoul who was killing doves left and right, as well as preying on all humans, and even destroying their own kind.

Bone Face was dangerous, basically insane with power. No one knew what the Ghoul's gender was, but it was assumed to be female. The neatness of the kills were too perfect; as was the form of her attacks. She was an Ukaku type Ghoul, slowly working her way up to devolving a Kakuja. This Ghoul was dangerous; there was no stopping her when she was in the middle of a hunt. No one has yet lived from one of her attacks, not one survivor. No witnesses, no nothing.

Now that brings us to Bone Face. The twenty-three year old female with striking features and chips of ice for irises. The female who always looked like she was up to something, or hiding from a deep secret that she held close to her heart. Her name was Celeste Banon, a young adult who attended Kamii University and had high grades. No one would suspect her for being Bone Face, no one at all.

The people who  _did_  suspect her normally ended up dead, before they could share their suspicions to the world and reveal her identity. It was always a smart move on her part; if she was ever to set foot inside of the CCG for questioning, she'd set the RC Detectors off as soon as she crossed the threshold. They'd be forcing a Quinque through her chest faster than she could even think possible. You want to know what? Quinque's  _really_  hurt! Even more so when they are using the Kagune of someone close to you, someone who you knew and loved. That never stopped Celeste from collecting their Qinque's after she tore the flesh off of the doves bones, although.

She ended up destroying the Quinque's later on, but she always said her last goodbyes before doing that.

"Focus on the hunt, Celeste." The young adult growled underneath her breath, her icy gaze flickering down to the ground. She was tracking a male from Kamii University, one who kept getting on her nerves. His name was Tobias Taylor, and he was  _very_  tall. He stood at a proud six foot five, and was slender. He had a mass of wildly curly hair, which was ginger in color. His eyes were toffee colored, and he was just... Human. He led the most human, boring life. No one would miss him when she brought him down, no one would even care if she killed him. He was just another human who no one cared about.

Curling her fingers around her mask, the female looked down at it momentarily, unable to hide the satisfaction that flashed across her features. This mask had been designed by Uta, made for no one but her. It fit her face perfectly, molding to her sharp bones and taking shape. He  _had_  designed the mask off of her facial structure, although. He had painted the bones stark white, and kept the rest of the mask black. There were two shallow dips where her eyes were supposed to be; which had two small holes for her to see through.

The female slid the mask on, pulling on her maroon colored hood, tucking in the stray strands of silvery colored hair behind the fabric. She was careful to scan the area, seeing no one but her target in sight. That caused a grin to take over her features, allowing her to zip up her knee-length jacket, taking a running start and throwing herself off of the edge of the roof, tucking her legs in close and landing on the balls of her feet in front of the target; Tobias.

Startled, the ginger haired male stumbled backwards, awkwardly crashing to the ground. His toffee colored eyes flew open wide, pale lips parting in surprise. All he could see was delicately rounded shoulders and a maroon hood. Nothing but that. His senses were telling him that this was a Ghoul, that this Ghoul was going to rip him apart and kill him.

"Tell me, are you afraid?"

The words slipped from her lips, sounding monotoned. Slowly, her head turned so that she could see him out of the corner of her eyes, not yet activating her Kakugan. She'd save that for a later time; just so that she could fool around with him a little bit. No one was going to be missing him, it wasn't like either of them had any place to be anytime soon, so she could take her time with this one. She could paint the walls of the buildings crimson with his blood, hang the parts of him that she didn't eat on ledges or poles, display his mangled body to the CCG and lead them on a false trail. A trail that led away from Bone Face, and pointed towards a troublesome Ghoul that Celeste wanted out out of the way.

"B-Bone Face!"

His shocked words snapped the Ghoul out of her musings, causing her to pull herself to her feet. She stood at a small five foot four, but she gave off a dangerous and very threatening air. "Exactly." She replied, feeling bored with his surprise. It was always the same exact thing with everyone; begging, praying, bargaining. The one line that made her just end it right then and there was 'If you let me go, I won't turn you into the CCG!'  _'No, you won't be turning me in because I'll be killing you before you can utter another word.'_  She'd always mentally reply, feeling oddly... Bored, with those types of kills.

But Tobias stayed on the ground, propped up by his elbows, toffee orbs wide with horror and shock. If he recognized her, he said nothing. She was suddenly grateful for the fact that he was a bit too slow to figure things out on his own, that he always needed a bit of a prompt.

Out of nowhere, her stark white sclera's transitioned into ebony, just around the same time as her icy irises shifted towards scarlet, crimson cracks appearing underneath her eyes and all through the ebony. "You never answered my question from before, Tobias Taylor. Are you afraid?" Tilting her head back and sucking in a sharp breath, the Ghoul felt an arrogant grin take over those features of hers. "I can smell the fear on you, it's as sweet as the scent of your blood."

Keeping his toffee hues trained upon her, Tobias could detect the faintest hint of red, as if her eyes had just changed. He was really done for, wasn't he? The ginger couldn't complain, could he? He had led a long life, and no one would really mind if he died at the young age of twenty six. It wasn't like he had anyone to miss him; no. If he was going to be killed by Bone Face, then fine. He'd be killed by her, no questions asked. Ghoul's needed to eat as well... Why should he be the one to deny her the right? Even if it was wrong, even if it was murder, everyone deserved a chance to live.

But in response to her question, he could feel his increase of heart-rate, the feeling of blood pumping through his veins, even the beads of sweat that rolled down his temples and the back of his neck, giving his skin a salty feel to it. He probably smelled ripe with fear, that must be fueling the Ghoul in front of him. He understood that she was dangerous, that in one swift motion she could snap his neck and end his life. There was no use in running or crawling away; it would just result in her dragging him back into the shadows to be devoured.

Taking a step towards him, the Ghoul felt a psychotic smile take over those sharp features of hers, that being the only expression on her face. "You should answer me, Tobias." A tinkering laugh slipped from her laugh, sounding nothing short of insane. Just by the way her hands were clasped loosely behind her back, the way her gloved fingers were folded together, and the way she was moving forward made Tobias flinch away from her, mouth forming and no words coming out. "If you don't tell me, I'll break a bone for every minute that you don't speak. Are we clear?" It was back to that monotoned voice, the one that held no emotion in its depths.

"Yes, I'm afraid of you." The redhead eventually rasped out, able to smell the sweet perfume of her skin now. She was  _that_  close to him. It was startling, to have someone that was so tiny and smelled so good to be so near, yet knowing that this tiny person was not human. That this tiny person was a Ghoul who was about to feed on his flesh, to make his death as slow and painful as she could.

Another laugh was pulled from her lips, although it sounded cold. "Well, that's delightful. You'll taste even better then. I prefer my food to be ripe with fear, rather than grief or any other emotion. Your fear will give me life." Celeste purred, still sounding monotoned. It caused a shiver to trail itself up Tobias's spine, allowing his hands to start shaking. This Ghoul was truly insane, how could she be the infamous Bone Face?

That thought was pushed from his mind as she quickly pushed him all the way to the ground, straddling his lap. He could hear her small intakes of breath, he could see the way her eyes scanned over his face through the small holes in her mask, he could even see the faint outline of her face, as well as her hair. Her hood was too big for her, and wasn't casting enough shadows up close. He wasn't going to live through this, so it didn't matter if he saw her face, right? If her face was beautiful, it'd be the final thing he saw before the crushing darkness.

Sucking in a sharp breath, his hand moved of its own accord. It slid underneath the mask, gently prying it from her face and revealing her facial features. The face that greeted him was not one that he expected, but one that he had seen around campus. He could remember her as Celeste Banon, a quiet girl who had a tongue as sharp as a knife. He had liked her, he had thought she was pretty; hell, he still thought she was pretty. If he was fated to be killed by her, then so be it. It was fine with him.

The Ghoul's pale eyelids dropped over her irises, slowly reopening as the mask was pulled from her face. Slowly, she allowed her hood to fall back as well, feeling... Calm. What was she supposed to do now? She wasn't hungry, yet she knew she had to kill him to keep her secret. Now that she was up close, she could see the beads of sweat that had appeared on his face, not even comparing to the splash of freckles on each cheek. He was a beautiful human, she had to admit. A beautiful soul who belonged to a race of trash.

A race that only existed to be nothing but food to Ghoul's. They were nothing but bags of meat; nothing but food... But why was she feeling attracted to this one? Why was there this odd emotion in her chest, preventing her from killing him? It was confusing, too confusing for her to even attempt to figure out. He seemed... As if he was offering himself up to her. He wasn't struggling, nor was he attempting to bargain for his life. He understood that she needed food, but... Did Celeste really need food? No. She could go another few days without food, but she just wanted to  _hunt_. She wanted to feel the satisfaction of the kill flowing through her veins and filling her up inside.

Celeste couldn't bring herself to do it.

"What's stopping you, can't you kill me?" Tobias eventually got out, his body suddenly tensing underneath hers. He had noticed her hesitation, noticed her reluctance to kill him. "Am I not appetizing enough for you?"

Grinding her pearly whites together, the female tensed up, her slim and delicate shoulders hunching. "I don't know why I can't kill you!" She curled one of her hands into a fist, bringing it down on his chest, hearing the grunt that got brought from his lips. "I can't do it, I can't bring myself to kill you and I don't understand  _why_."

The redhead underneath her raised one of his hands, lightly trailing it across her high cheekbones. "Maybe it's because you're suddenly realizing that killing is wrong? Or maybe its because... Your own personal feelings are getting in the way?"

Feeling the blood in her veins freeze, the Ghoul sank her pearly whites into her plush bottom lip, her heart pounding dully. What was with this? Did... Did she like him? She could faintly remember feeling attracted to him in the past, thinking that he was actually 'date' material. She had always pushed down those feelings in the past, not wanting to get involved with any of the human trash that she surrounded herself with. She had never felt this way before, and it was scaring her out of her wits. What was she supposed to do? Kill him, or follow him around to the point of where she was basically a stalker—trying to keep him from revealing her secret?

"..." No words left her, those eyes of hers narrowing. "I... I don't... I don't know." She moaned, the ebony of her sclera's fading back to stark white right as her scarlet irises transitioned into those icy hues that she claimed. Celeste was feeling nothing but frustrated as well as annoyance. "I just don't get it."

Softly tucking a stray strand of hair behind her ear, he pursed his lips, those toffee hues of his thoughtful. "You have a crush." He replied simply. "I think that your emotions are preventing you from killing me. Let's just say that I'm relieved, but... Then again, I'm a little scared. I've never been this close to a Ghoul before, one that I admired." He shrugged his shoulders, pushing back the blush that threatened to creep up his neck.

Her gaze flickered back to him, tracing over his soft facial features with a confused expression. She hadn't been raised to understand these feelings; she had been raised to understand that the human race was trash, that the human race was nothing but food to her. "What should I do?" She whispered, her voice low and frightened sounding.

Tobias shifted underneath her, obviously uncomfortable. "Well, first of all, you can get off of me, okay, so that's not going to happen." He grunted when Celeste clenched her jaw, her hands curling into fists. "You can either act on it, like... We can go out together, you can fade yourself into the human world, leave your alias of 'Bone Face' behind, or you can kill me here and continue on going down the path that you are already going." The ginger replied, brushing his own bangs out of his face. "It's up to you, its your choice. No one but you can make this choice."

"..." Her silence was unnerving. Her hand stretched out and took her mask, running her fingers over the white bones, her nail lightly etching over the hollow of the eyes. The young adult couldn't help herself as she stared at the mask, unable to decide. Was it worth it, to give up her alias for a simple human? Or was she supposed to kill him now and forget all about this? "... Alright. I'll... I'll give up my alias. I'll do it."

Little did she know, that in the near future, she and Tobias would be married. They would also have three,  _beautiful_  children, as well as adopting a fourth. Even the fact that human-Ghoul conception was rare, they managed it three times.  _That_  would be her future, that would be her future and there was no changing it.

Celeste wouldn't give anything to change a damn thing about it either.


	19. The 13th Apocalypse.

> _For she ~~sleeps~~  forever, locked in the prison that is her own ~~body~~. Only the one who has lips of ~~satin~~  can free her from her ~~curse~~._
> 
> _Locked inside of a tower hidden from all those who have not seen her face, lay a girl who's body wanders insanity. The poor girl with a sharp tongue lay sleeping for so long that she had become a creature of her own design; unable to change and unable to free herself from this prison. Only the one who pledges eternal love to her can free her; only to meet the monster that is her own creation..._  

* * *

_Once again, I find myself here. Why is it that I'm always drawn here?_

The brief thought crossed the teens mind, his thumb and forefinger gripping his chin. His thin lips pursed, dark eyebrows pulling together as he thought. Why did this place interest him so? Or, more rather; what was drawing him to this exact place? To him, it looked like nothing more than a mere ballroom with no one in it.

No...

There was someone there.

Unfortunately, her back was turned away from him, but he could see her back and her hair, which was the exact color of flames. Very slowly she turned to glance at him, porcelain-like skin instantly flushing. From this distance, the ebony-haired male could tell that she was very beautiful. The way she held herself was nearly regal, yet at the same time she seemed.. relaxed. For a long moment soft mocha held striking azure, lips parting as if she was going to speak.

This was the first time that there was ever another person in 'his' dream.

"My love," she breathed in one of the softest voices imaginable, "you've finally arrived." What really caused Shawn's cheeks to flush at this was the fact that she called him " _my love_ ".

Something was odd about this girl. Her hair was left to hang in ringlets down to her waist, yet there was a snow-white veil covering the hair there. Her body was clothed in a stark-white dress with frills and lace, almost resembling a wedding dress. When he looked down, he himself was wearing a white suit, looking like the type that a groom would wear to his own wedding. Was what this was? Some sort of dream wedding?

Moving as if the two of them had no control, his warm hand slipped into her cool one, sending jolts of electricity up both of their arms. Those mocha irises of hers were wide and shaking as she gazed up at him, cheeks flushed. His own eyes were wide, yet his gaze managed to remain steady. They were close enough to the point of where their foreheads could have touched, yet a distance remained between them. This girl, who he knew nothing about, was the one that caused his heart to start pounding wildly and his face to continue staying flushed.

It was as if they were both looking into a mirror; the two of them understood that this was nothing but a dream and yet..? They still begged for that moment of fever, that brief moment that would make the two of them completely and utterly weak.

His lips met with hers, the kiss being utterly soft at first before it turned into something else. Her arms were thrown around his neck, fingers twisting in his hair. His arms had encircled around her waist, pulling her body right up against his. The taste of her was so intoxicating in his nose and his mouth, slowly filling his lungs to the point of where he could burst. Underneath his fingers her skin was velvet soft, completely and utterly familiar to him.

This girls—no— _Aden's_  body was like a map to him; one that he had to study. But at the same time, he didn't have a need to study her. She was too familiar to him; something he wanted to associate with home. But in this feverish moment, none of that mattered. All that mattered was the feeling of her mouth against his, her warm skin brushing against him, and her fingers wound tightly in his hair.

His slender hands moved from her hips up to her back where there was a corset, beginning to undo the laces with shaking hands. Her slim hands, which he had admit, they were really artist hands, slipped from his hair and reached back behind her, helping him undo the corset that bound the fabric to her body, removing her lips from his to draw in a deep breath, her own kiss-swollen lips damp with saliva.

In a matter of seconds the item was stripped from her body and carelessly thrown to the ground, where her slim fingers moved to start undoing the buttons of his shirt, fumbling and breathing heavily. Gently, he wrapped his fingers around her wrist, using his other hand to finish off the buttons that she hadn't touched. Her trembling hands removed his upper body of the fabric, allowing the white section of cloth to fall to the floor.

For one whole moment the two of them were utterly silent, aside from their labored breathing, mocha locked with azure yet again. The fiery-haired female in front of him slipped out of her heels and leaned up, causing Shawn to lean down in response to passionately press his lips against his, the kiss slowly deepening and spinning out of control.

One moment they were standing there half-undressed ( _she still had her dress on but if Shawn really wanted to he could just take it off in one swift tug_ ) , and the next moment her legs were wrapped around his waist and her arms were around his neck, whilst he was carrying her to one of the rooms, blindly laying her down on what appeared to be a queen sized bed. Instead of capturing her lips like she had wanted, he pressed a tender kiss to her throbbing pulse—only to lightly nip the skin there, getting rewarded with her grasp tightening around his waist and a small noise leaving her lips.

How did he get here? How did he suddenly find himself so drawn to this girl who he barely even knew; yet felt as if he had known her lifetimes? Right now, in his lust-filled mind, all he could think about was her beauty and what he had to do next. What he  _wanted_  to do next.

What did he want to do next..?

Well, one thing that he knew was that her dress needed to come off. If he was shirtless, then she might as well follow the suit because it was just going to happen anyway. So with hands that were as gentle as ever, he pulled off what really was the tattered remains of her dress ( _hey; during that blackout moment things got really intense_ ) . It was almost as if the two of them were in sync with their thoughts. As he finished tossing her ruined dress to the side, she slipped her fingers into his damp hair again, connecting their lips and parting hers underneath his. Teeth clashed, tongues danced, saliva mixed, sounds were made and sweat rolled down each of their foreheads and down their temples, dampening each and every part of their skin and causing their ivory skin-tones to become flushed.

All through the night they continued on with their activity, forgetting that this was just a dream. How could it be ' _just a dream_ ' when it felt so.. so real? When each and every part of them screamed that it was as real as could be? Wait a moment—.. was this girl even real?

The thought was forgotten as their activity brushed that thought far away, eventually resulting in him holding her while they both tried to at least get  _some_  sleep. They were in a dream and yet they were trying to sleep; logic.

It wasn't until near dawn did the other stir, turning wide mocha irises upon the male. She had the blankets clutched tightly in her grasp and hiding her body from her collarbones down, as well as the red marks that were littering her skin in various places.

"You're not real, are you?" Shawn murmured into her hair, breathing in the salty smell of sweat. "If you were real, then I wouldn't have dreamed of you, correct?" He hated to say such a thing but.. she couldn't be real. Not since she seemed too beautiful—too perfect.

"I'm as real as you but; I'm trapped here." She breathed against his neck, breath lightly stirring his ebony curls ( _which were only curls because of the sweat_ ) . "I'm cursed, never to wake. Trapped somewhere that I do not know. But I beg for your help, my beloved. Please, find me and wake me from my eternal slumber. When dawn comes, you shall wake and I shall continue on in my slumber."

"I can stay here with you, I will out wait even the dawn—-"

"It is not possible." The tone of Aden's voice was sad, mocha irises partially shut. "You must return to the waking world—I never can. Unless you come and find me and free me, then I am stuck." There were tears leaking out from over her waterline, streaking down her face and staining his chest. "Please, come and find me before time runs out."

Shawn was silent for a long minute, tempted to promise that he would find her. But.. could he manage such a journey for someone that he barely even knew and didn't even know where she was hidden away? Could he manage such a thing? The answer had to be yes. It just  _had_  to be yes. He would promise it to her. This male would go after this sleeping beauty and wake her from her eternal slumber and save her life. ".. I'll find you. I'll set out first thing and find you; no matter what it takes."

"Thank you.. my love."

Those were the last words he heard before he woke. 

* * *

 All day long Shawn paced his room, trying to decide if it was worth it to go after a girl that he didn't even know. But oh  _god_  did he fall for her. He fell hard for this female that he had met in his dream. The girl with fiery hair, mocha irises, and a scent that was utterly intoxicating. He couldn't just leave her to die and rot there, no way no how. This girl was... She was the one he wanted.

So late in the afternoon, the male had gathered what he needed; nothing but a pair of clothes and a needle-like sword. Without saying goodbye to his family, he had set out on the impossible quest to find this fiery-haired beauty, able to sense in the back of his mind that time was running short for her. Not just for her, he wouldn't last long in the wild. Shawn was not a fighter, but more of a scholar. This journey, for him, would be a long one.

And long it was.

For three weeks he traveled on foot, desperately searching for the crying girl in his dream. On a whim, he had decided to follow his gut, heading west and praying that he wasn't going in the wrong direction. It wasn't until the day where he was dawning upon his twenty eighth day away from home that he was planning on giving up, until he stumbled across a field of thorn bushes. And what was in the center? A tower.

So the ebony-haired male had unsheathed his sword with a determined look in his azure irises, hacking and slashing at the deadly looking thorn bushes. For about three hours or so, he hacked at those bushes, panting and struggling for air. When he finally stumbled onto the path that would lead him directly to the front door he was grateful, following this path cautiously.

Who knew what was waiting for him at the end?

The teenager had managed to reach the end of the path without a scratch, feeling accomplished with himself. To add to that feeling, the door was unlocked. So with his sword drawn and footsteps light, he carefully crossed the stone floor to the stairs, where he began to climb the spiraling staircase whilst praying that there were no traps inside of this place. It would not be nice to just suddenly have an ax, or a bear in his face if that was the case with the trap.

It wasn't until he reached the top of the stairs did he reach his first problem; the door to Aden was locked.

Sheathing his sword, the teenager frowned and thought, trying to figure out where there might be a key. So, on a whim, he reached up above the door frame and ran his fingers along the small ledge there, shocked when his fingers met with a cool metal. In his haste and excitement he quickly locked the door, coming to a dead stop when he got a full sight of the room.

The fragrance of roses was strong; strong to the point of where he was trying his best not to choke on the scent. From what he could see, there were three entrances to three ledges, allowing warm air to whisk around the room and ruffle the flowers and fabric. Speaking of flowers, the room was  _full_  of roses. He couldn't take one step into the room without stepping on one of the flowers or on thorns, which was a major disappointment. In the middle of the flower bed was an actual bed with a familiar female resting upon it. Her hair was fanned out behind her as well as the veil. Her hands were folded over her chest and a rose was tucked in her grasp, and Shawn was surprised that the dye from the rose didn't bleed out onto her dress.

Carefully picking his way across the room to her, he kneeled down on the bed and circled his arms around her shoulders, propping her up in his lap. Her legs were entangled in his yet her hands stayed folded over her chest. Those pale lips of hers were just slightly parted, as if awaiting her kiss right then and there. He could have guessed that she was dead if it were not for the faint rise and fall of her chest.

Leaning down, the teen just lightly pressed his lips against hers in a chaste kiss, feeling her cold body come to life underneath his touch. Shawn could feel tears streaming down her cheeks so he pulled away, smiling down at her and brushing them away with his thumb. Her mocha irises were focused on his azure ones and she smiled, throwing her arms around him and holding him tightly. "My beloved," she whispered, her hands moving to press against his chest.

Out of nowhere, she shoved him away from her; sending him skidding down to the edge of the bed. _"Kill me!"_  Her voice was a hoarse shout, tears streaming down her features yet again.

The ebony-haired teen was shocked as he stared at her, taking in her sudden change of attitude and appearance. An expression of horror took over his features as he stared at one of her irises, which was ruby. The stark white of her eye was now ebony, the iris rolling around as if she had no control over its movement. It was all he could do not to screech and run away from her, and decided to keep calm. What could he do? There was no where to run.

Out from the middle of her spine these legs seemed to emerge, reminding him of an insect he had once caught. Her body was now shaking, tears splashing down onto her dress and small whimpers eliciting from those lips he had kissed so many times before.

_Oh..._

He understood.

Aden  _was_  an ordinary girl. Shawn had heard of woman who killed out spite; even placed curses upon other girls out of envy and desire to be them. In his eyes, and most likely in many other eyes, this redhead in front of him was perfect. Her features were flawless, hair the perfect shade, body the perfect size and pure at heart. He remembered hearing a couple of years ago that a local girl a few kingdoms over had disappeared on her wedding day and thought nothing of it.

But she had been engaged to prince Jesse. So of course she would have attracted unwanted attention and jealousy from those who wanted to be Jesse's wife. This princess was an ordinary person who had been cursed because of something she couldn't change; and she was suffering. Someone must have decided to put her in an eternal slumber and have her lure men in under false pretenses, making her out to be a  _'black widow'._ They'd be lured into her 'web' and she'd pounce when they came and found her; _if_ they ever came to find her. This curse could never be broken. When he was dead, she would go back to sleep and she would lure someone else in against her will. No one else had to die because of something that she couldn't change. She didn't have to die and neither did he.

There was no way out of this  _without_ killing her; she would just continue suffering if he allowed her to kill him. Shawn loved her too much to leave her or kill her. He couldn't do such a thing that would  _ever_  harm her; he had fallen for her and she him. If she hadn't fallen for him, she would have just killed him and not warned him of what she was and begged him to kill her.

Seizing her wrist, the ebony-haired teen moved quickly. He dragged the suffering girl to one of the balconies, jumping up onto the ledge and bringing her into his embrace. Tucking a stray lock of hair behind her ear, he smelled down at her before gravity took over; dragging both of their bodies down to the hard earth where they would hit the path sooner or later.

Tears were still running down her face and spilling into the air as they fell. "I love you," she whispered as she looked up at him, a smile gracing her beautiful features. Those demonic legs had long since disappeared and her eye had gone back to the beautiful mocha that he had fallen for, so it caused a pure look of adoration to appear on his features as well.

"And I you."

Those were the last words the two of them ever spoke before their lips connected for the last time; and then their bodies collided with the cold earth.


End file.
